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Just Walking

There is a piece in the current issue of America Magazine titled The Walking Cure. In it, Michael Rossmann, S.J., talks about the benefits of walking, such as our increased openness to pleasant surprises and simple beauties we would easily miss if we were driving, the opportunities to engage in conversation with others, and the way it puts us in a more relaxed state.

I read the piece with pleasure because walking is a favorite pastime of mine. I love long hikes in the woods, but also afternoon or early evening walks in a nearby park or just around my neighborhood. Apart from the physical exercise, and the part my daily walks play in my training for the Camino I will walk this fall, walking clears my mind, slows me down and allow me to be mindful.

I also resonate with Rossmann’s discussion of walking and productivity. He writes

More than this, walking like prayer, makes me feel more like a human being, rather than a human doing. Sure, I could travel in a way that is far faster or spend my time producing more, but I often feel more liberated when I realize that I don’t always have to produce. I don’t always have to rush form place to place. I slowly learn with each step that life is not about efficiency or productivity.

Rossmann observes that people sometimes ask him where he is going during his evening walks, and seem perplexed when he responds, “I’m just walking.” When I read that, I was reminded of my time in Bali many years ago. In Indonesia, “jalan, jalan” – just walking – is a common evening pastime. The people in Indonesia see nothing at all perplexing about it.

It would be good if more people here could enjoy just walking, doing nothing but appreciating God’s creation.

Today’s Gospel is a passage I love from the final chapter of John’s Gospel. After the resurrection, Jesus reveals himself to his disciples on the shore of Galilee. After eating breakfast with his friends, he asks Peter three times if Peter loves him. It is an exchange I have written and talked about before.

What always strikes me is the way Jesus’ question is phrased the first of the three times it appears in the Gospel: “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”

The question I have whenever I hear or read the line is what did Jesus mean by “these”? I don’t think Jesus is asking Peter is he (Peter) loves him (Jesus) more than the other disciples love Jesus. But what is he asking?

Do you love more me more than you love your friends?

Do you love me more than you love your wife? And the rest of your family?

Do you love me more than you love your life as a fisherman? Do you love me more than than you love your own ambitions?

I think he means all and everything. Do you love me more than anything?

As we sit with the passage, I think the invitation is to ask ourselves a similar set of questions: Do I love Jesus more than I love my husband? More than I love my duaughter? More than I love my ministry? More than I love [fill in the blank]? We are invited here to reflect on how deep is our love for Christ – and on what competes with our love for him.

Do you love me more than these?

During a particularly difficult semester in college, I went to see someone at Georgetown’s Counseling Center. After a few sessions, I decided I didn’t like the advice the counselor was giving me and so cancelled my last appointment. After I did, I got a short letter from the counselor, which said, “You can lead a horse to water, but…”

You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink. That – to drink, the horse has to choose.

As I was driving home the other day, it occurred to me that “you can lead a horse to water…” is a different, more secular, version of something someone had posted online recently:

God determines who walks into your life….
It’s up to you to decide who you let walk away,
who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.

It is an important thing to remember. I think of all of the people God has put in my path at different times in my life. Some I have let stay, and they have been real blessing. Others, like the Georgetown counselor, who I probably could have benefitted from, I pushed away. God put them in my path, but gave me the choice whether to welcome them or reject them.

I have to remember the words in a different way as well – a way that is actually harder for me. Just as God puts people in my path, God puts me in the path of others, people who could benefit from their encounter with me. Some of those people will welcome my presence. We will grow in relationship and learn from each other, and they will benefit from my presence in their lives.

Others, however, will push me away, and when it happens, it is a really hard thing for me to accept. I need to remind myself that the fact that I think I have something to contribute to their lives doesn’t take away the fact that it is their choice whether to let me do so. I can’t force my presence on them any more than one can force a horse to drink (or any more than the Georgetown counselor could have forced me to take his advice). And I remind myself that even Jesus let the rich young man (and others) walk away from him. He always let it be their choice whether to go or stay.

God determines who walks into our lives. It is our choice who we let stay and who we push away.

I very much enjoyed the movie, The Bucket List, doubtless at least in part because I like both Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.

In the movie, two men – Edward (Nicholson) and Carter (Freeman) both having a terminal illness find themselves sharing a hospital room. Although very different men, they form a friendship and creates a list of things they want to do before they die. They travel around, checking items off of their “bucket list,” each learning more about themselves and each other.

One of the things on their list was to see the pyramids of Egypt. While they are there looking at the pyramids, re, Carter tells Edward that the ancient Egyptians believed that when you die, you have to answer two questions before you get into heaven:

Have you found joy in your life?

Have you brought joy to others’ lives?

You might spend some time today reflecting on those two questions. What are the joys in your life? And how have you brought joy to others?

Love Like God

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples “As the Father loves me, so I also love you.” He then commands them to “love one another as I love you.”

If we put those two statements together, Jesus’ instruction is that we love like God loves. So it is worth thinking about what that means.

We can say a lot of things about God’s love. God loves unconditionally. God loves universally. God loves endlessly. That itself asks a lot of us: to love everyone as fully and unconditionally as God does.

But I don’t think even that fully capture it. The First Letter of John tells us that “God is love.” It doesn’t say God loves, but that God is love. That says to me that we are not asked simply to love.

Rather loving like God means being love. Not just showing love. Not just loving sometimes. But emptying ourselves of everything that is not love. That is a pretty tall order, but it is what Jesus asks of us.

Today is the tenth anniversay of the death of a dear friend of mine, Don Shane, a parish priest in the Rockville Center Diocese. While it is not my practice to repeat old posts, today I re-post what I wrote five years ago, on the fifth anniversary of his death:

Today the Catholic Church celebrates the feast of Our Lady of Fatima.  For many people, the primary association of the day is Mary’s appearance to three children of Fatima six times during the period May 13 to October 13, 1917, and the messages she delivered to the children.  For me the primary association is Father Don Shane.

My parish in Port Washington, New York, where we lived before moving to Minneapolis this past summer was Our Lady of Fatima, a small parish with a wonderful faith community.  After the removal of our old pastor (and a short stint by another temporary administrator), Don Shane, a retired priest who was a regular presider at masses in the parish (and brother to our organist/director of music ministry) was appointed temporary administrator of the parish. 

I loved Don.  He was not someone you would consider among the greatest theologians of the day but there was something in him that touched me deeply and he loved the people of our parish.  He also loved movies and often managed to weave some movie or other into his sermons, and (movie or not) his sermons always had something to say to me.  They were often simple, but they came from the heart.  Don had a tremendous devotion to Mary and could often be found in the afternoon sitting by the side of the altar saying the rosary…assuming he could untangle the several sets of rosary beads he carried in his pocket that were always getting tangled up in each other.  He also had a deep devotion to the Eucharist;  I loved serving as minister of the cup during daily masses that he served because of the reverence that was palpable in his whole being.  During the period he was running the parish, I was doing the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises as a retreat in daily living.  No one could have  been more supportive, and knowing I had his prayers during what was sometimes a difficult experience meant a lot to me.

In the spring of 2003, Don, who had been looking kind of yellow, went to the doctor for what he said would be a routine check-up.  As we said a blessing for him after the weekday mass that preceded his visit to the doctor, he laughed and said he’d see us in a few hours.  He never came back to Our Lady of Fatima.  His visit to the doctor resulted in a diagnosis of liver cancer and on May 13, 2003, on the feast day of Our Lady of Fatima five years ago today, he died.  The last time I saw him, while he was still in the hospital, I brought him a book of Hopkins poetry.  I don’t know if he ever opened it, although he told me when I gave it to him that he very much liked Hopkins. More importantly, he told me that he was ready to go if that was God’s will…and would stay if that was what God wanted.  The last time I spoke to him, it was a phone call he initiated to ask me to do one of the readings at his Mass of Transferral, a phone call and request that moved me to tears, as I realized the end was really coming. But even then he could make me laugh: he described the arrangements he was putting in place with such precision…and even with some joy…that I jokingly asked him what day the Mass would be so I could put it in my calendar. He lauged out loud and admitted he couldn’t say exactly what day it would be….but that he didn ‘t think it would be too far off.  

On this feast of Our Lady of Fatima, I give special thanks for the gift in my life of a man who was priest, friend, teacher and model.  A person I loved to talk to and loved to laugh with.  A person from whom I learned a tremendous amount about both how to live and how to die. 

I share all of this, in part as tribute to Don Shane.  But I also share it in the hope that perhaps reading it may prompt you to call to mind this day someone who has played such a role in your life…and to give special thanks for the gift that person is to you.  

While they were looking intently at the sky as he was going,
suddenly two men dressed in white garments stood beside them.
They said, “Men of Galilee,
why are you standing there looking at the sky?
This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven
will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven.”

Today’s first Mass reading from Acts records Jesus’ last words to his disciples and his ascension into heaven. The language above immediately follows Jesus’ ascension.

Jesus gave his disciples a charge before he left them: Go out into the world and proclaim the Gospel; make disciples of all nations. The angels words are a reminder of that charge. When I hear those words, what I hear is: What are you doing standing around here? You have work do to. Don’t be looking up there – he’s not going to be doing the heavy lifting from now on – he’ll come back in his own time. Right now it’s up to you.

We have been given of the same Spirit as the disciples. And we’ve been given the same charge. As John Paul II wrote in his Apostolic exhortation, Christifideles Laici: “The entire mission of the Church, then, is concentrated and manifested in evangelization. Through the winding passages of history the Church has made her way under the grace and the command of Jesus Christ: “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation” …and lo, I am with you always, until the close of the age”….

Don’t just stand there looking up at the sky. Celebrate Christ’s Ascension as he instructed us to do.

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